Road Rage
by yellowhorde
Summary: This was for a Challenge at the Webefanfiction ML Challenge: The guys from FAKE are called to a crime scene involving 'murder by bus'. What happens next?


Disclaimer: I don't own FAKE and I make no money from this or any other story I write.

Pairings: DeeXRyo

Category: General/Angst

Rating: R

Warning: Violence and languae

Title: Road Rage

Author: yellowhorde

Status: Finished

Notes: This was for the 2004-09-14 Daily Challenge at the Webefanfiction ML

Challenge: "The guys from FAKE are called to a crime scene involving 'murder by bus'. What happens next?" television(thoughts)

Fifty-four year old David Specking, who stood barely five-five, had thinning grey hair, and wore horn-rimmed glasses, didn't look at all like the kind of man who would commit murder. Or at least, that was what Detective Randy 'Ryo' Maclean's first impressions of the man seated across from him had been. Fortunately, Ryo had been a New York City detective long enough to know that murderers came in all colors, shapes, and sizes. No matter how harmless and innocent an individual appeared on the surface, there was simply no way to know what might drive them to take another human life.

And today this average looking school bus driver, who was normally so soft-spoken and polite, had flown into an uncontrollable rage while making his afternoon rounds. Screaming and swearing, he had plowed bus number forty-four with all fifteen of its school aged passengers into a green Ford Excursion. The force of the impact, which one fifteen-year-old had described as sounding more like a loud explosion than a crash, had sent the smaller vehicle flying into a nearby telephone pole. According to witness reports, the bus driver then backed the bus up and repeated this savage act six more times.

Soon after the first police cruisers arrived on the scene, Mr. Specking had calmly stepped out of the bus with his arms held high in the air. He had offered no resistance when he his hands were securely cuffed behind his back as he was read his Miranda Rights, nor did he utter one single word other than to tell the arresting officer his name and home address. By the time Ryo and Dee had pulled up, the suspect was in custody and being transported to the Precinct.

Ryo wearily closed his dark eyes for a moment but quickly opened them again as scenes from the accident site flickered through his mind. Ever since he had been in the Academy, he had trained himself to be able to recall as many details from a crime scene as possible. In his line of work, this was a very useful skill to have because you never knew when a single piece of evidence could lead you to the perpetrator. Sometimes, however, at times like this, having a good memory could be a terrible thing.

Firefighters had actually had to tear the roof, door and steering wheel of the Excursion off so that the seriously injured driver and passenger could be removed for treatment, Ryo recalled with a dimmed sense of horror. Shards of glass and twisted scraps of metal had laid strewn

across the cement like so many handfuls of confetti. And there had been blood ...so much blood...

(Don't think about it!) He tried to tell himself, but it was too late, the image was burned permanently into his mind and there was no way he would ever be rid of it now.

Ryo's stomach rolled heavily and a hot wave of nausea sizzled through his body. Breathing deeply, he tried to will his stomach into behaving. It wouldn't do to have him getting sick. Not here in front of the man directly responsible for all the carnage he had witnessed this afternoon. He mentally reminded himself that he was stronger than that, that he had work to do and a case to close. And eventually the nausea passed leaving him feeling light-headed and more than a little sweaty.

Forcing himself to look down at the report, Ryo found himself staring into the faces of the two victims as they peered up at him from a colored photograph that had been found in the driver's wallet. The driver, forty-three year old Marcus Thomson, had been a handsome and charismatic man who had taught tennis part-time at the University up until the day he had died. The coroner, a sallow-skinned man with the bedside manners of a carp, had announced that judging from the massive trauma to his head, it was most likely that Mr. Thomson had died either immediately after the first impact or shortly after. Upon seeing Ryo's unhappy reaction to this news, he had hastily assured him that the man's death had been quick and that it was unlikely that he had suffered much.

The same could not be said about the passenger.

Judging from the photograph on the table, Linda Specking, David Specking's wife of five years, had been a vibrantly beautiful woman with thick blond hair and large blue eyes. But try as he might, Ryo simply could not bring himself to match in his mind the attractive forty-two-year-old woman in the photograph with the dismal wreck of a human being he had seen being rushed into the ambulance that had been at the crash site. That woman, the victim, had been on the verge of silent hysteria, her blue eyes wide and frightened, as she helplessly writhed in pain. Almost every inch of her was coated with blood - her hair, her face, the sheets that were thrown over her body after she was hoisted into the gurney. But no matter how much Ryo wanted to separate the victim from the woman in the photograph, he knew that they were one and the same.

Ryo glanced first away from the photograph and reports spread out before him, then over to his long-time partner, Dee Laytner, who was sitting in one of the uncomfortable straight-backed chairs, his arms crossed over his chest. His partner's green eyes were half-closed and a cigarette hung from his lips while acrid smoke drifted lazily into the slightly stale air. To any casual observer it would appear as if the black-haired detective were about to fall asleep on the job, but Ryo knew that his laid-back attitude was just an act to put their suspect at ease.

The trouble was that David Specking already seemed to be completely at ease. He had been sitting in the 2nd floor interrogation room of the 27th Precinct for almost two hours now and as of yet had showed not the slightest interest in anything going on around him. Normally a criminal suspect would have started fidgeting by now but Specking only sat there with his own arms crossed over his narrow chest, his face a complete blank. It was almost like he had become a department store mannequin except for his pale blue eyes, which smoldered behind the lens of his glasses.

"Could you tell us what happened out there today, Mr.. Specking?" Ryo asked quietly in another attempt to get their perpetrator talking as he gathered up photographs and papers on the crime scene and stuffed them neatly back into the folder. He then tapped the folder against the table a few times to straighten the documents inside. The _'tak! tak!' _sound of the folder striking against the table top seemed very loud.

"Nothing much, if you ask me." Came the calm response. The man's voice was soft and bland, but his eyes continued to stare into Ryo's. It was a bit disconcerting to have this man speak so casually of the event that had unfolded earlier. It was even more disturbing to have that cold, pale gaze staring back at him from a completely blank face.

Ryo decided to try a slightly different approach.

"Your supervisor told us that you had come into work earlier in the day looking, and I quote, 'rather upset.'" He continued. "Mind if I ask what was troubling you?"

Specking shrugged one his shoulders indifferently. "Nothing worth tellin'. Me and the missus just had a bit of an argument this mornin', is all."

"And that would be your wife, Linda Specking, the owner of the car that you rammed your school bus into?"

"You are correct in that assumption. But I didn't 'ram' my bus into that car, Detective Maclean." The older man said firmly with a negative shake of his head. "I just temporarily lost control of myself for a moment."

Ryo puffed his cheeks in frustration and tried his best to keep a firm grip on his unraveling calm.

"And what did you two argue about, Mr. Specking?" He asked.

"Just family matters that don't concern the likes of you, Detective." Specking sneered.

From the corner of his eye, Ryo caught a sudden flash of movement. He whirled around and cried out his partner's name as he watched Dee lunge across the table as if in slow motion and grab David Specking by the front of his shirt. Growling low in his throat, a very angry Dee pulled the stunned suspect halfway across the interrogation table and began to shake him furiously, like a terrier with a rat. Specking's horn rim glasses flew from his face and fell to the floor.

Dee, red faced and glaring, pulled the smaller man closer until they were nose to nose. "Don't give me any of your shit, motherfucker!" He roared. Spittle flew from his lips and though he was yelling at the top of his lungs, his cigarette still dangled precariously from his bottom lip. Ryo stared in mute horror as his partner man-handled Specking, and dimly wondered what the Hell was holding Dee's cigarette in place. By all rights it should have fallen to the ground by now.

"You killed two people and traumatized over a dozen innocent kids with that little bullshit temper tantrum you threw today!" Dee tightened his grip on the man's shirt until the fabric was cutting into the pale flesh of his neck and continued to shake Specking. In the heat of his rage, he either didn't notice or didn't care that the other man's face was turning beet red and he was obviously having difficulty breathing. "We've got witnesses that say you DELIBERATELY ran that bus into your wife's car, not once, but SEVEN fucking times! So don't sit there and tell us that this is none of our goddamned concern, you fucking asshole!"

"Dee!" Ryo cried, flinging himself at his partner and desperately trying to break Dee's hold on their suspect. "Dee, stop it! You're going to kill him!"

He pulled frantically at Dee's large hands but his partner's grip was like iron. Ryo knew that if he didn't do something quick, Dee was going to end up killing the man right here in the interigating room. Finally, in desperation, Ryo pulled back his hand and smacked his partner across the face with all of his might screaming, "LET HIM GO, DEE!"

Dee abruptly released David Specking, who collapsed back into his chair clutching his throat and wheezing painfully, and then staggered back one step then another until he too collapsed into his chair. A bright red mark in the shape of Ryo's hand, as vivid as a smear of war paint, marred Dee's right cheek. His green eyes were wide and one hand rose gingerly to touch the spot where Ryo had hit him.

"Dee," Ryo wanted to wrap his arms around his partner and simply forget about what had transpired through out the day, but now was not the time for comfort. They were members of New York Cities Finest, and they had a job to do. "I'm so sorry I hit you, but I couldn't let you hurt him any more. Guilty or not, I just couldn't let you do it."

"No, I understand completely, Ryo." Dee mumbled, and stood up on legs that wobbled a little.

"You did what you had to do. And I'm sorry I lost it there, buddy."

"So she's dead, is she?" A croaking voice asked.

Ryo and Dee turned to face Mr. Specking, who had finally managed to catch his breath. His watery blue eyes seemed much larger now that they weren't hidden behind those ugly frames he always wore. They burned with a fierceness that set Ryo on edge, what he saw in those eyes was pure, unadulterated hatred. Just a few minutes ago he had appeared so calm and in control of himself. And now, he was like a completely different person.

"Yes, Mr. Specking," Ryo said as he moved closer to the man across the table. "She died while en route to the hospital." And then, not knowing what else to say, he mumbled, "I'm sorry."

David Specking's face turned a mottled red as he stood and planted his fists onto the table, as if for support. "Sorry?" He sneered. "You're SORRY?"

And then suddenly, to the Detectives' amazement, he was yelling, each word tearing out of his mouth becoming louder than the last until Ryo was certain that everyone on the other side of the door could hear him.

'Well, I'M not sorry, Mr. High-and-Mighty Detective. I'm not sorry one little bit. That little whore was cheating on me with that pansy tennis coach! You hear me, CHEATING!" Specking's watery eye bulged until Ryo was half afraid they would burst out of his skull and he beat his fists against the table top like a demon possessed. But even as he screamed out his rage, tears were flowing down his cheeks in an unstoppable flood.

"I caught them in bed together when I came home from work for a bit of lunch. Caught her cheating on me right in my own GODDAMNED BED! And I'm glad I killed her! Glad, I tell you! And I'd do it all over again in a New York minute, you lousy cock-sucking sons of bitches, only next time I'd make sure I'm not CAUGHT!"

_...the suspect, David Specking, will be facing numerous charges, including two counts of vehicular homicide. In other news-_

Ryo viciously jabbed the off button on the remote control and the television snapped off, cutting off the news broadcaster in mid-sentence.

"God damn it!"

Dee, who had been in the kitchen putting away the last of the dishes from dinner, poked his head into the living room, his face a mask of concern. He crossed the living room quickly, his feet making little _'swish-swish' _sounds as he moved across the thick carpet. He jerkily dried his hands on the black and white apron he wore to keep his clothes from getting wet.

He sat down carefully next to Ryo, who had tucked his legs to his chest and wrapped his arms around his knees so tight that his knuckles showed white beneath his skin. His forehead was resting against his knees so that his face was obscured from view. Dee gently reached out and laid his hand on one shaking shoulder.

"Hey, Ryo," Dee whispered, "You all right?"

For several long seconds Ryo remained still, hiding his eyes from his partner. Then, with a shaky breath, he raised his head and meet his partner's green eyes with his own tear-filled ones.

"What good did we do today, Dee?" Ryo asked, his voice full of such agony. "I mean, _really_?"

Dee pulled back for a second, caught unprepared for the question as much as by the pain in his partner's voice. "We put a dangerous, very angry man behind bars today, Ryo. That's what good we did."

Ryo snorted contemptuously and turned his face away. "Only after he managed to kill two people, Dee."

"I don't know what to say to that, Ryo, except that we can't win every time." Dee wrapped his arm around the smaller man, and even though he turned his face back so he was looking at his lover, Ryo remained stiff beneath his touch. "We can only do our best and hope that things will eventually work out in the end."

The clock in the kitchen was the only sound in the small apartment besides the slow, steady rhythm of the two men's breathing and the far of _'whoosh' _of traffic as the night slowly passed. Eventually, Ryo uncurled from his defensive little ball. He leaned into Dee's broad chest and wrapped his arms around him tightly, never wanting to let go.

"I don't want you to leave tonight, Dee..." He murmured softly.

"What about Bikky?" Dee asked before placing a gentle kiss atop Ryo's head.

"He's spending the night at Carol's tonight." Ryo's voice was heavy and muffled with exhaustion.

"Just... hold me, Dee... _Please_. I don't want to be alone right now."

"Of course I will, Ryo." Dee murmured, tightening his hold on his partner.

A comfortable silence fell between the two detectives. Dee shifted his position just a bit so that both he and Ryo would be more comfortable. Judging from the other man's slow, steady breathing Dee guessed that he had finally fallen asleep.

But just as he was about to gather up his friend and carry him to his bed, Ryo stirred and spoke in a low voice. "He must have really loved her."

"You mean Specking?" Dee asked, confused by his partner's almost matter-of-fact statement.

"Yes." Ryo replied softly. "He loved her so much that he would rather kill her than see her in the arms of another man."

"Well, that's rather fucked up, if you ask me." Dee said, stroking his fingers through Ryo's soft hair.

Ryo nodded his head in agreement. He fell silent for a moment then said, "But I guess that's just the kind of world we live in."

"I'd like to believe that that isn't necessarily true, Ryo."

Ryo buried his head into Dee's chest and inhaled the spicy scent of his cologne and beneath that the fresh, clean scent that belonged only to the man he loved.

"So would I, Dee." He sighed softly, "So would I."

THE END


End file.
